


Clean Eyes

by Kawaiibooker



Series: The Promise [2]
Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Dubious Vampire Biology, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feral Alucard, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Introspection, Multi, Post-Season 2, Recovery, Spoilers for Season 2, Starvation (non-lethal), Team Bonding, y'all know where this is going :')
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-02-29 13:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18779119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiibooker/pseuds/Kawaiibooker
Summary: Alucard sleeps. The Trio struggles and learns to grow, together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to [Swan Song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18551644). Beware the Season 2 spoilers.
> 
> (Usually I don't drop the title inspirations but [Clean Eyes by SYML](https://open.spotify.com/track/1a9KbY1lTvSYuLCAsLf52E) is a punch in the gut re: Castlevania emotions.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [sharkflan](https://twitter.com/sharkflan).

Alucard sleeps, afterwards.

From the moment he goes slack in Trevor's arms to the moment he's laid out carefully amidst pristine-white sheets: they dare take only the quietest of breaths, the softest of steps lest they disturb his slumber. Trevor mumbles something about getting more blankets and Sypha?

Sypha hunts down a chair from one of the other rooms and settles in to wait.

And wait she does, with worry a hard knot in her stomach that strains ever tighter. Alucard has never been one to let his guard down easily – at least not since they've known him; the last awake, the first to rise, always – and yes, the light of day had some sort of draining effect but for him, she had thought, exhaustion was more of an abstract concept than to his fully human companions. Nothing more than subtle shadows under his eyes and creases thin as hairline cracks on otherwise flawless skin.

She's starting to think Alucard is just very, very good at maintaining that immaculate image of himself. A man between two worlds and yet, somehow, without weakness.

Tracing his motionless features with guilty glances, Sypha realizes this is the first time she's seen him deeply, helplessly _asleep_ since that day. _Some kind of defense mechanism, perhaps?_ From the bits and pieces Alucard had let slip between one late night talk and the other, the previous months of rest hadn't exactly been voluntary either.

Even in darkness, Sypha finds the scar on his chest without really trying to. A year later and it has barely faded... The wound must have run deep to leave such a permanent mark.

Yet he had prepared himself for it, that time. There'd been traps and a secured coffin and vessels filled to the brim with blood. Whatever this is... It's not entirely out of his hands. _Were you waiting for us?_ She blinks away tears at the mere thought of it. The castle didn't have any safeguards left, falling apart as it is. Would Alucard have collapsed eventually, alone and forgotten and _defenseless_ , if they hadn't come back?

How little they truly know of each other. Enough to travel together, to fight and survive together; Sypha can kill a vampire with some effort but healing one? With the end of the world looming on the horizon, there simply hadn't been any time to pry, to research, no time to wonder what happens _after_ they succeed. Too unlikely was their victory, too monumental the task ahead of them.

Now, with Dracula slain and his son all but unconscious in front of her, Sypha sighs. She pulls the one threadbare blanket they found a little higher around the man's shoulders – they barely move with his calm, even breaths and, by himself, Alucard barely generates body heat.

_Where is Trevor with those blankets?_

Sypha can't blame him for taking his time, in the end. Downright haunted he had looked in the dim light of hastily-lit candles, hollowed from the inside out. Plagued by memories she has no access to, _not yet_ , she muses with fragile hope.

Absentmindedly, she gestures towards the cold fireplace a few paces away. Flames are coaxed into existence by the gentle motions of her fingers. Their warmth spreads, banishes somber shadows into the corners.

There's nothing to do about those thoughts lurking in her mind, however: the echo of Alucard's grief, the pure anguish he sobbed into the worn fabric of Trevor's tunic. Like every wall he built between himself and the world had crashed down all at once and left him breathless, without ground to stand on in the oncoming flood.

Like all he had were nineteen years of life before everything he knew was burned to ashes and washed down the streets in rivers of blood.

Sypha knows loss, yes – in this wretched world one would be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn't – and yet it shook her to the core, to see a pain so visceral, so vividly clawing at her friend's heart. To see it reflected on Trevor's face, infused in every tear that ran silently down his cheeks.

For one agonizing moment, she aches for her family: her grandfather's soothing presence, the Speakers' constant motion with and around her, the stories that beg to be told and remembered.

A story like theirs. A proper one free of any euphemisms, _Belnades and Belmont_ , that pretty alliteration she had uttered so carelessly to sweeten the lie at its core.

Sypha blinks, swallows hard. Her mouth tastes like cinders and copper. She decides, hesitates – reaches for Alucard's hand that hangs limp off the edge of the bed. Long, graceful fingers, smooth and all the more lethal. She ghosts her lips over his knuckles, breathes the promise she made against his skin in the hopes he'll feel it, wherever he is.

Their story – Alucard's story – needs to be told right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying out a new story structure/posting schedule here so please be patient <3 more is coming very soon!
> 
> [tumblr](https://kawaiibooker.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kawaiibooker)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [sharkflan](https://twitter.com/sharkflan) and [candeloro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/candeloro/pseuds/candeloro).
> 
> Content warning for extreme hunger and feelings of starvation.
> 
> (In a true back-to-the-roots fashion [I made a playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0scxxXODewE06S3W113Rx3)........)

Eventually, Adrian wakes.

It's a slow dawning of consciousness, a delicate disentangling from half-remembered dreams. Clouds of spun sugar, melodic humming, the quick working of experienced hands – vague impressions he's pulled away from by his rousing senses. There's no feeling of imminent danger nor the faintest trace of daybreak behind closed eyelids; pillowed on something soft, his mind is blessedly idle, distinct thoughts lost to the comforting weight wrapped around him.

Adrian lets himself sink into that warmth, just a moment longer.

Close-by, a page rustles as it is turned. The sound is a familiar one, a childhood memory held in the tender hands of nostalgia. Adrian breathes a quiet sigh and tucks his chin under the covers. _Home_ , his nose tells him, the familiar scent settling in his lungs.

It's... cozy.

“Fangs?”

A low murmur, filled to the brim with hope. That, too, spells out _home_ in his mind – and with his body heavier than it has ever been, Adrian doesn't question why. Instead he leans towards that voice, feels the barely-there brush of fingertips running down his temple and over the curve of his jaw.

“Okay, definitely not imagining it this time. C'mon, wake up.”

Golden lashes flutter. _Not yet._ Adrian's brows twitch, pull together. _Let me stay._

“Wake uuup.”

The touch shifts, turns to an incessant tapping on the tip of his nose, less careful now. The dhampir's frown is joined by an annoyed noise low in his throat, lips curling, itching to show his fangs.

“Pretty please. For me?”

Adrian gives in. The world is a blur, at first, awash in streaks of stone grey and blazing embers. Blinking, he forces his eyes to focus, to squint against the flickering of firelight until he finds a hint of blue, all glinting smugness and– “Mh... Too close.”

A raspy chuckle. “Hello to you too, sunshine.”

Despite his teasing words, Trevor's smile is genuine, _warm_. He leans back but not very far; chin propped on his elbow, he looks... tired, run-down, shoulders hunched like he's been sitting in that chair for far too long. There's a levity there too, however, a quiet sort of relief he doesn't try to hide from Adrian's hazy gaze.

Trevor Belmont – relieved to see _him_. Maybe he's still dreaming after all.

It takes every bit of Adrian's tattered concentration to temper his confusion. His head hurts with the jumbled memories it contains: a fuzzy mess of raging fire and shattered glass and crudely drawn stars in a deep-blue sky. His mother's sad smile, immortalized on canvas. His father's eyes, dripping with blood.

The tight embrace of those he hopes to call his friends, one fortunate day.

In that moment, it all coalesces – a storm of light and dark, of past and present and an uncertain future and at its core... the longing for nothingness, for the peace his slumber granted him. Adrian breathes, bites his cheek against the rush of tears threatening to show–

There's a book in Trevor's hand, bookmarked with a finger and not quite put aside. It's a detail so jarring it saves Adrian from drowning beyond a stuttering breath, that rekindles an old spark of mirth in his chest. He doesn't say a word and yet Trevor picks up on his fleeting glance, huffing a defensive “What?” before he tosses the book over his shoulder rather flippantly. It lands with a dull _thud_ , back bent in two and pages creasing.

“It's been weeks. I got bored. Y'know, for being an eternity old this castle has fuck-all to offer in terms of entertainment.”

Adrian's lethargic pulse jolts to life. “Weeks...?” Still slow from his slumber, the question slips out before he can stop himself, rough and scratching against his parched throat. Adrian gets an elbow underneath himself with some effort, strains to push himself into sitting up–

Dizziness hits him low in his guts; black blotches spill like ink across his vision for a brief moment. A groan is swallowed before it can escape his lips. With some alarm, Adrian realizes he feels _faint_ – faint from hunger, from a body that has yet to heal.

Faint with a thirst he hasn't satisfied in too long.

_Shit._

“Adrian... It's been a month”, Trevor is saying, his smile gone without a trace. It's hard to focus on his face, his words, when his jugular flutters with every beat of his strong heart, entirely unprotected by the open collar of his loose-fitting shirt. The one usually covered by the armor _he isn't wearing_ , now of all times. "You– What do you remember?”

"Dreams", Adrian grits out, tears himself away from the sight. “I was... dreaming. It doesn't matter. Is Sypha–?”

“She's here, yeah. Well, usually. Right now she's digging through the Belmont library like it's the air she breathes.” Spoken with easy fondness, it's snuffed out as quickly as it came – Trevor tilts his head and leans in closer. Adrian keeps his breathing shallow. _Too close._

Trevor asks, “Hey, you okay?”, eyes narrowing in concern. His pulse is picking up. So distracting. “And yes, I'm serious. None of that 'I have no feelings' shite, Adrian, we're barely over the last time–”

“Belmont.”

“–huh?”

“Leave this room. Now.”

And oh, Adrian could've lived without seeing the wounded look that flashes across Trevor's face at that. After everything they have said to each other – every serrated insult, every word aimed at deeply-hidden hurts and barely-healed scars, every double-edged compliment – it's _this_ that finally hits, when the hunter is only an arm's length away.

Then there's the anger; the war drum of Trevor's heart that Adrian can't escape, so loud to his heightened senses. Saliva pools in his mouth, the ache of his hunger echoing deep within him.

_Shit shit shit._

“If– if this is because we left... Adrian, I swear, I didn't _know_ –”

Adrian clenches his eyes shut, “please”, he pants out behind the hand he presses to his mouth and nose, breath whistling between his fingers. It's not enough, never _enough._ “Please... leave.”

Silence falls and it's worse, in a way – that he can feel the tension of Trevor's fists as they're clenched, the small breath he inhales and doesn't release.

" _Go._ "

Trevor doesn't say a single word when he does. In the wake of his fading steps, Alucard buries his head in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would y'all believe me if I said I didn't plan for this to be angsty? ... Yeaaah, me neither.
> 
> Special thanks to RL for foiling my plans of a shorter upload schedule. Someday I shall defeat you, oh most terrible of foes.
> 
> EDIT: I commissioned [Justsayapples](https://twitter.com/Justsayapples) to draw art for this story - [ click here for a lil sneak peek at the next chapter](https://twitter.com/Justsayapples/status/1149194969611194368) >:3c
> 
> [tumblr](https://kawaiibooker.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kawaiibooker)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by [sharkflan](https://twitter.com/sharkflan), [pyrokaster](https://twitter.com/pyrokaster) and [justsayapples](https://twitter.com/Justsayapples).
> 
> Content warning for starvation and descriptions of a character suffering from malnutrition.

The door falls shut. Trevor exhales one long, slow breath until his lungs burn with the need to draw air.

_Fuck._

For some time, it's the only thought he can grasp, pounding in his head along with the too-fast beat of his heart. That... and the look of disgust on Adrian's face, the way he covered his mouth like he couldn't even stand the mere sight of him.

A month of introspection – of wandering the halls of his family's ruins, of much-needed revelations and raw honesty spoken by feeble candlelight – and all it took was one look. One look, and Adrian's face, already so pale, had gone white so fucking fast he looked almost translucent.

Oh, how proud his father would've been, to see a vampire react so strongly to a Belmont's presence. Every hunter's wet dream, in fact, to have those they hunt cower before them.

All Trevor feels is sick. Sick to his fucking stomach, sick like he drank through the night and woke up in some ditch, miraculously, regrettably, still alive and in one piece.

Trevor stands there, with his back against age-old wood and can't bring himself to _leave_.

 _At least he's awake_ , he tells himself. It's a cold comfort, a silver lining that's harder and harder to make out the longer he searches the horizon for it. Adrian's awake, and sent him away the first damn chance he got.

Trevor knocks his head back hard enough to sting.

_Fuck._

*

A Belmont _, his father had said, plucking the glinting dagger out of Trevor's hand effortlessly,_ always has a plan. They–

–are never caught off guard. _Trevor grinned, pulled, watched as the end of his whip wrapped around his father's leg just tight enough to make him trip_ (but he never fell, not until–)

 _The other laughed, shook off the weapon's grip, quick to join his son's side to ruffle his unruly hair._ Exactly.

_A proud smile, the comfort of his father's hand on his shoulder; a fleeting summer spent on sword practice and dusty books and–_

– _vague silhouettes on the horizon, lit torches and angry voices, his world swallowed in flames and–_

Years come and decades go and Trevor?

Trevor paces. Up and down and up again, a hallway filled with portrait after portrait of vampire after vampire eyeing him in disdain. A thousand times he has plotted his next move and still he isn't a single step further. Still he stares at that closed door and doesn't dare opening it.

“Trevor!”

His name precedes a flurry of hurried steps like lighting does thunder, coming closer. Trevor's head turns – too sudden, a painful pinch in his neck tells him – and he glimpses a stack of books and finger-mussed hair before he finds the storm in Sypha's eyes.

Dread returns like an old friend. “What happened?”, he asks without hesitation and if his voice is tense with exhaustion, well – it's just been that kind of day.

Sypha's expression is equally drawn, lacking the fond little smile he's grown so used to seeing. “It was there all along”, she hisses, thrusts the books into his hands none-too-gently. “Right under our noses, Trevor. I knew we had missed _something_ but–”

Trevor spares one of the titles a confused look, reads _Bestiary_ and _Sonia Belmont_ and ignores the stab of longing with practiced ease. “Wait, _wait_ , slow down– Missed what? And when? ...What?”

His questions are met with a deep breath. Sypha grabs the first book, thumbs through the pages until she hits a spread gently bookmarked by a scrap of blank paper put in its fold. The note flutters to the ground when she holds it up to eye-level for him to properly see the words written in neat, elegant lines.

“ _This_. I found what's wrong with Adrian.”

Just the mention of the dhampir makes Trevor cringe. He wants to cross his arms, brace himself for what he'll have to admit – that Alucard is okay, that it's _Trevor_ who is the problem – but Sypha gave him books to hold and she's told him a million times to treat them with care, to _respect your history, Belmont. It's precious._

Thus he looks for a place to put them, steers towards a promising bit of carpet that looks somewhat clean as he mutters, “Look, about that...”

“We completely misunderstood! He doesn't need to sleep to heal, he needs–”

“Sypha! Alucard's _fine_ , okay?”

“–what? How do you know?”

Trevor sighs, rubs at the tension behind his eyes with now-freed hands. “He... woke up earlier. Seemed a bit groggy, sure – guess I'd be too if I slept through a whole bloody month – but otherwise? Not a hair out of place.”

Relief, elation, hell, even a stern reprimand is what he expects – the book Sypha held up with such conviction lowers to reveal a deepening line between her brows and utter confusion in her gaze. “But that makes no sense! He wasn't, I don't know... different?”

“Well”, Trevor says with a joyless huff of a laugh, “he still hates my fucking guts, that's for sure.”

And there it is, the pity. Sypha looks sad, sad _for_ _him_ , and it makes his skin crawl because it's exactly how Trevor feels, too. He folds his arms in front of his chest to keep his hands from fidgeting.

“Oh Treffy, we _talked_ about this. You need to keep your head around him and just... talk, you know?”

He shrugs, a little helplessly, and looks away. “So... yeah. Whatever you found out, you can ask him. He's right there.”

Sypha doesn't fall for the distraction, not one bit – the unhappy twist to her lips is a sure sign she _will_ bring this up sooner or later – but she lets it go, for now. Not for the first time, Trevor is glad it's her he quite literally stumbled across, that it was her who decided to stick around and share the bumpy road he calls life.

One he had hoped, somewhere deep inside, to share with Alucard, too.

“I guess it can't hurt”, Sypha amends easily, and that fond smile he loves returns. “Adrian didn't wake up alone, and that's what matters.”

 _Always focused on the positives_ , Trevor muses just as fondly. He hums his agreement, asks, “Wanna see him?”, and at Sypha's eager nod he finally reaches for the door. With his previous hesitation pushed to the far back of his mind, Trevor's hand wraps around the ornate knob and turns–

*

The fracture of an instant, that's all it takes.

“Trevor–”

The glimpse of pale skin and gold; blurred movement in the corner of his vision and–

“ _Watch out!_ ”

Something crashes into Trevor, slams against his arms that he yanks up on instinct alone. The first impact is enough to make his bones creak and pain radiate all the way down his spine; a breathless grunt escapes the hunter as he struggles to hold his ground and yet he does, with Sypha at his back and claws sharper than blades scant inches from his face, straining against the tight grip of his hands–

With his heart slamming into his throat, all Trevor Belmont can see are the pointed edge of fangs bared with a feral snarl and the glow of golden eyes in a sea of red and comes to the heart-stopping realization that _he doesn't have a weapon._

__

([Art](https://twitter.com/Justsayapples/status/1149194969611194368) by [justsayapples](https://twitter.com/Justsayapples), posted with permission.)

And Adrian – the man who wields eloquent quips and toothy smiles as skillfully as he does his sword – he's... gone, lost without a trace in the wild gaze of a beast. In his stead a vampire _glares_ , pierces through skin and muscle and bone with those eyes and Trevor's breath hitches, once, struggles against the visceral terror that shoots through his veins like poison. Sypha is saying... something but the rushing in Trevor's ears makes it impossible to listen–

It's a different voice that grounds him, one echoing from times long past between row after row of bookshelves and fanged skulls mounted on display. _A Belmont always–_

Trevor's hands steady with crushing force around Alucard's wrists – thin, delicate almost but _Trevor knows better_ – and the hunter counters the vampire's hiss with a wolfish grin of his own. “We _really_ have to stop meeting like this, Fangs.”

Suddenly Sypha is there, pushing at his back to squeeze through the door; Trevor pushes back, “Run, Sypha”, he growls between clenched teeth, and “What are you doing?!” as she starts tugging at his arms–

“Stop”, she cries, clawing at his fingers near-desperately. “Trevor, no, _you're hurting him–_ ”

Trevor doesn't stop, doesn't let go, not when that crimson look is so alike the one that awaits him every night, in nightmares tinged red by the blood moon and the mad gaze of Dracula. “No! Alucard, he's...”

A flame flickers to life, trapped between Sypha's fingers and held to Trevor's face and he flinches, a memory altogether different twisting sickeningly in his guts – and beyond it, the sapphire edge of Sypha's eyes shines.

“Trevor. He's _starving._ ”

Two words.

Just two little words but their gravity snaps Trevor's world back into focus. Two words and finally he _realizes_ : the thin sheen of sweat on Alucard's too-pale skin; that his clawed hands shake not with power but with the effort to match Trevor's strength, a _human's_ strength, and how his shoulders heave with panted breaths. Shoulders more slender than he can recall them ever being.

Trevor  _remembers_ : the tomb under Greşit, cobwebbed walls and tanks of blood and _I asked you a question, do you care?_

His grip goes slack before he even knows what he's doing and Alucard _moves_ , with his eyes trained on Trevor's neck and his pupils lighting up a fierce red. From one moment to the next, there's a wall at his back and a dhampir at his throat, close enough Trevor can feel the tip of his fangs dragging over his jugular–

And yet Alucard doesn't bite, doesn't cross that final line to end the hunter's life. Chest to chest, Trevor feels the shudder that tears through his body, hears the soft “No” he breathes against his skin, over and over.

“Alucard”, Trevor gasps and the other hisses, cages him further – with claws that dig into crumbling stone instead of tearing into flesh. Trevor catches Sypha's panicked look over Alucard's shoulder and closes his eyes, forces himself to relax in the dhampir's deadly embrace, muscle by muscle. “'s okay. You're okay. Don't kill me, okay?”

Alucard leans his head against his shoulder and whimpers, “I can't”, so quiet only Trevor can hear him. “Can't. I can't. _It hurts._ ”

There's tears stinging in the corners of his eyes – _leave_ , Alucard had whispered, not to spite him but to protect him, to _save him from himself_ – and Trevor lets them fall. Slowly, infinitely careful, he places a hand on Alucard's chest, feels the ridges of that prominent scar under his fingers and the desperate rhythm of Alucard's heart thumping against his palm.

“Okay, that's... that's fair”, Trevor whispers back. There's a thousand words on his tongue, a dozen things he wants to make up for yet most of it evaporates in the space between one beat and the next.

“Adrian, I need you to listen. Can you do that for me, yeah? Please. It's really important.”

Trevor's mind is a vortex, spinning around one remaining thought. One vital rule he never in his life would've even contemplated breaking. The voice is back, the voice of his father, overpowering and louder than ever. _A Belmont never–_

“Drink from me. Okay? If it's blood you need, take it. Heard a Belmont's blood is fucking delicious, so–”

Alucard groans, shakes his head, “ _No_ ”, he says immediately, sounding closer to lucidity. Close and still far from it, weak as his attempt is to get away from Trevor. “Mother– I promised...”

“You're not dying because of a fucking promise”, Trevor snaps but his hands are gentle as he cups Alucard's face, heart sinking at how cold he is to the touch. Their eyes meet. Trevor searches those blood-red depths for understanding, for permission – and Alucard lets him, wide-eyed with fear so strikingly _there_ in his gaze: fear for Trevor's life and not his own, never that.

“You're not going to kill me. _I trust you_ , you bloody fool, and Sypha– Sypha's there to stop you, just in case.”

It's one of those things that becomes true by spelling it out; Trevor smiles and, with softness to his voice, he continues, “We made a promise too, remember? I want you to bite me, Adrian, and _live_.”

A drop of blood runs its path down pale cheeks, then another. Crimson tears drip on Trevor's hands and he doesn't pull away. Shaky breaths brush over his neck and he doesn't flinch.

The touch of fangs, gentle as a kiss; Trevor exhales and leans into it and–

All it takes is the fracture of an instant. And Adrian?

Adrian gives in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [justsayapples](https://twitter.com/Justsayapples) for providing some truly gorgeous art to this chapter (and for all the pointers re: game canon!)
> 
> I'm sorry it took so long to update! I have to admit I struggled with this chapter, both due to lack of time and the realization that there's more to be said than fits the framing of this story. In the end, I decided to end it here and continue in the next one.
> 
> With how crazy my life's been (two jobs and a full-time master's degree is WILD y'all) I can't promise I'll be able to write a sequel immediately but... I definitely want to. AND I'm due for some nsfw about these three so :3c there's more on the horizon. See ya then!
> 
> [tumblr](https://kawaiibooker.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kawaiibooker)


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